


What Comes Next

by Cantique



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Ending, fluffy shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ending: Cullen's decided what's next. It's marriage. And he'll need some help getting it together. | Fluffy stuff, will be a few chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was weird. Even for  _Dagna._

“Commander,” her eyebrow raised, she peeked around him, trying to see if the Inquisitor was far behind. She was nowhere to be seen. “Can't say I usually see you down here.” The dwarf gestured to the rest of the Undercroft, the cogs in her brain working rapidly to try and figure out what was going on. In all her time with the Inquisition, she'd actually _never_ seen Cullen in the Undercroft – at least without the Inquisitor dragging him along to inspect something, anyway. If he needed something crafted, usually he'd send one of his men to requisition it.

But, for some reason, he stood in front of her, alone. And what's more, he looked... well, she couldn't exactly pin his expression, but it was somewhere between 'embarrassed' and 'uncomfortable.'

“Well, I can't exactly say I've ever...” he paused, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. Dagna wasn't the most capable of reading people, but she was more and more convinced with every passing moment that something was up.

“...Are... you _ok?_ ” She asked. He gave a nod, quickly glancing around, as though he were worried that he'd be heard.

“I... I need to ask you something in confidence,” he began, his voice low, having decided that it was ok to proceed. “It cannot leave here and it _must_ stay between us.”

Dagna crossed her arm, shifting her weight to one leg. “And the Inquisitor, right?” 

To her surprise, Cullen quickly shook his head, his eyes widening. “N-no!” He stammered. It struck Dagna how awkward he was. Was he always like this? The guy that the _Inquisitor_ was with? He cleared his throat. “She, _especially,_ cannot know. I need this to be entirely secret.”  

“I don't like keeping secrets,” Dagna warned, “but if it's important to the Inquisition, I guess I can.”

“It's not so much for the Inquisition,” he explained, slowly, his words being chosen carefully. “It's... well... I need you to craft something.” 

_Now_ Dagna was concerned. He needed something crafted, for himself, that she wasn't allowed to tell anyone else about. “It depends on what it is.” Dagna paused, trying to make sense of this and get a read on him. “I don't like hiding things from the Inquisitor, just so you know. So it had better be--”

“I need an engagement ring!” He blurted, his words so fast and quiet that Dagna barely even caught them. For a while, there was a silence between them, and the only sound in the Undercroft was that of the waterfalls nearby. Once he'd collected himself, though, the Commander managed to continue. “I... I need a ring crafted and I've been told you're the best.”

She gave a laugh, which was both one of relief and one of excitement. “An engagement ring?” She repeated,  a smile on her face . “There's plenty of merchants in Val Royeaux who probably have more...  _fashionable_ options for you.”

He shook his head. “I've looked. None of them are right. I mean, not that I'm an expert on fashion or jewellery, by any means,” he clarified, “but none of them make me think of  _her._ And anyway, I want something more. Whatever I give her needs to be enchanted. I'd like it if it could protect her.” He paused. “...As much as such a thing could, anyway.”

Dagna gave a nod, her smile widening now. “That's... so sweet that it's actually making my teeth  hurt .” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Enchanted rings are  _definitely_ do-able,” she began, thinking out loud and moving to her work bench. She pulled open a drawer, rummaging through sheets of schematics. “I've done a bunch of them before – for the Inquisitor, actually – so I  _should_ have her ring size  here somewhere...  let's see...” she removed a schematic from the drawer, inspecting the details and giving a decisive nod. “Here we go! I can make something like this, sure,” she pointed to the sketch on the schematic, gesturing for Cullen to have a look. “It won't look the same, obviously, I'll have to add the stone to it.”

“Of course.”

“So all you really need to do is pick out the materials.”

Cullen stared at the dwarf blankly for a moment. “...Materials?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I mean, what you want it made out of.”

“Oh,” he gave a frown. “I... hadn't actually thought about that.”

Dagna looked up from the schematic, quickly reaching out to point at a box of crates to her left. “We've got some requisitions there if you want to have a look.” She continued as he moved over and opened the lid of the first crate, sorting through it, lifting chunks of stones and metals and looking over them in the light. “It's not _everything_ I could use for it, that's just what we have here. If you want something like Obsidian or Dragon Bone, we'll have to go and get some.”

“Dragon Bone?” he repeated, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah. Dragon Bone is known for it's sturdiness. It's not as flashy as Dawnstone or anything, but it'll last forever and has some really great protective properties – it wards off fire.” She paused, taking note of his expression. “...But _getting_ Dragon Bone involves... you know. _Killing a Dragon._ ”

“That... could be a small hurdle,” he agreed, placing a chunk of some kind of metal back into the crate and speaking under his breath. “...But she _would_ love that.”

Dagna watched the Commander mull over this, smiling to herself. She'd only really seen him when he was in work mode, which meant him being serious, sometimes angry. But here he was, the Commander of the Inquisition's ever-growing armies, stressing himself into a near stupor over an engagement ring. Maybe there _was_ a good reason the Inquisitor liked him so much. “You know,” she began, her voice a little softer than before, “you should talk to The Iron Bull. Guy _loves_ hunting Dragons. I bet he could source some for you.”

 

* * *

 

“A Dragon, hey?” The Iron Bull repeated, a small smirk appearing across his mouth. “I seem to recall a certain Commander being furious the last time we took one down. Wasn't too keen about the Inquisitor being put in so much danger.”

“I know,” Cullen exhaled. “And I did apologise for that, if you recall.”

“Only because she _made_ you,” Bull laughed, pausing to take a drink from his flagon. He set it back down once finished, wiping his mouth. “But I get it. You need it for your engagement ring. I've already picked out the one we're going to take down, and all _you_ have to do is keep the Boss distracted. Take her to Redcliffe or something.”

Cullen blinked, and it was all he could do to try and keep his voice down, instead settling for a harsh whisper. “You _knew?!_ ” He asked.

“Dagna gave me a heads up yesterday,” Bull confirmed. “Don't worry, though. It's just between us three. ...And Dorian. And Cole. And Vivienne.”

“What?!” Cullen asked. “Why do _they_ have to know?!”

“As great as I am – and I'm pretty great – I can't take down a Dragon by myself,” he explained. “I'm only bringing people we can trust. Dorian is the Boss' best friend, more or less, I'm pretty sure he'd take it as a personal insult if I didn't bring him along for this. Vivienne is enough of a traditionalist that she'll keep tight-lipped about the whole thing, and Cole?” He stopped to smile at himself. “Well, Cole's just a good kid. Trust me, Commander, she won't hear a word. I even talked to Red. She already knew, obviously, but she's not about to blow the lid on your big, romantic surprise. I think she's a little excited, actually.”

Cullen exhaled slowly, crossing his arms and thinking it all over. “I suppose that will have to do,” he finally spoke after a moment, “but I can't stress how important it is that the Inquisitor _can't_ find out about this.”

“Of course.” Bull tapped at his head. “Ben-Hassrath, remember? I've got this. You just worry about taking the Boss somewhere nice for the day. If she catches wind of us hunting for Dragons, she'll _insist_ on coming along. ...And make sure not to tell Varric, either.”

Cullen gave a smile. “Absolutely not. If I told Varric, half of Skyhold would know within the hour.”

 

* * *

 

“...What are you hiding from me, Cullen?” 

Cullen froze in his spot – luckily his back was to her, the Inquisitor had been looking over the balcony of the small villa they were staying in. “W-what do you mean?” He asked, trying best to keep his cool. She hadn't even finished unpacking her things yet and she was _already_ suspicious. This did _not_ bode well.

“Well, there's a few things,” she began, her footsteps back in to the room following. “First of all, this?” She gestured around the room. “It's all very fancy. When you said we were going away, I expected Redcliffe or something a little more... cosy. And second of all,” she gently tugged on his arm, turning him to her, seizing his gaze. “You haven't looked me in the eye since we arrived. You're nervous.”

“You...” he gave a nervous, partially exhausted laugh. “You can really read me that well, can't you?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “No. You're just a horrible actor,” she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. “I _know_ Josephine helped you set this up, you don't have to hide it from me.”

The Commander, who had tensed up over the course of the conversation, gave a blink. “Josephine?” He repeated, his shoulders dropping.

“This is so Josephine that I'm surprised she hasn't burst out of a cake yet,” she joked. “She asked me if I preferred figs or cherries, and lo and behold,” she gestured to the table, which, sure enough, had been set up with a bowl of cherries.

“Oh,” Cullen exhaled, so relieved that he began to laugh. Josephine had, indeed, helped set up the 'retreat,' although she didn't know _why_ – he wasn't game to trust her with that information, given how close her and the Inquisitor were. Dorian would keep his secret, but Josephine had a tendency to get just a little too excited and... well, he wouldn't say babble, but... “There's no hiding anything from you, is there?” He asked, deciding to just _go_ with it.

“I'm sure you'll pick it up over time... still,” she slung her arms over his shoulders, a soft smile on her face. “Regardless of who helped you, it was all _your_ idea.” His hands found his way to her waist as she lent in to kiss him, gently this time, but lingeringly. “And _that_ is lovely.”

“Well,” he chuckled as he gave her hip a squeeze, “I realised that we hadn't actually _done_ anything since you defeated Corypheus.”

The Inquisitor nodded. “It's almost been a year, hasn't it?” She asked. “And everyone's still with us. Even Sera... maybe we should treat this as our anniversary.”

“When are we counting from?” He asked. “When you asked me if I'd taken a vow of celibacy?”

“I was _trying_ to flirt!” She laughed, gently thumping her palm to his chest. “I was actually thinking of when you decided to kiss me without warning.”

He grinned and pulled her against him. “Well, that's good enough for _me,_ ” he said, his voice low. His arms wrapped around her, holding her form against his in a bear-hug as he swung her around towards the bed, the Inquisitor giving an excited squeal. The two fell against the bed, almost sinking into the fluffy, goose-feather Orlesian blankets, Cullen rolling over immediately to pin her arms. She was in a fit of giggles now, only silencing when Cullen kissed her and she realised where the afternoon was going.

 

* * *

 

 

This was it. 

Cullen took a deep breath, pulling the ring from his pocket to inspect it one final time. Bull had done a fantastic job at not damaging the bone, and Dagna had done a magnificent job working with it. The Dragon Bone itself wasn't like he'd expected – it actually looked more like pearl than anything, although it was a silvery colour. He actually preferred it to what he'd imagined. Dagna had even etched carvings into it, something so delicate that he didn't even want to know how long it took. She'd set a garnet in the centre, having enchanted it separately from the ring itself. 'Double the protection,' she'd bragged. Perhaps this would mean she'd return home with less burns in the future if she said yes.

_If_ she said yes.

He glanced to Tavern entrance, the music audible from inside – along with Bull and Varric's laughter.  All this work. All this time. Now all he had to do was walk in to the Tavern, take her somewhere private and hope she said yes.

H e entered the building, his mind working overtime. Surely she'd say yes, they'd been together for a long time now, or, well, long for two people who seemed to be involved in a new war or conflict every few weeks. Had it been long enough, though? Most people got engaged after a few months, so surely this was the right time. Most people. There were exceptions, of course. Last  time  he'd spoken to Hawke, her and the Apostate hadn't exactly made vows in the Chantry – although he supposed Anders probably wouldn't be allowed anywhere  _near_ a Chantry  anymore.

Once he was visible to the Inquisitor, she moved to call his name, but had apparently forgotten her mouth was full of ale. She quickly covered it, hunching over, her free hand waving to h im. “Cullen!” She finally coughed once recovered when he reached the table. “Sit, I'll get you something to drink.”

Cullen rolled his shoulders. For a second, proposing to her in the Tavern seemed an option, but he knew that wasn't right. Not in front of so many people. He'd be so terrified he'd probably pass out before he could even show her the ring. “Actually, Inquisitor, I was hoping that I could borrow you for a moment.”

“Can it wait?” She asked. “Bull was just about to tell me about the Dragon they killed a few days ago. I can't _believe_ missed that!”

T o Cullen's surprise, Bull spoke next, shaking his head. “It's a good story, but it can wait if there's  i mportant Inquisition business.”

He shot Dorian a knowing glance, and before Cullen could speak, Dorian was chiming in now. “Of  _course_ , Maker knows you can't get Cullen into the Tavern unless it's for something official.” The  m age gave a smirk. “Especially since the Wicked Grace incident.”

“Ok, ok,” the Inquisitor gave a nod of defeat and rose from the table, “but when I get back, you're telling me every detail about that Dragon.”

“You got it, Boss.” Bull suddenly gave a laugh as she came to Cullen's side. “And maybe afterwards we can have the Commander join us for a game of Wicked Grace.”

T he two turned to leave, Cullen's hand instinctively moving to the small of her back, guiding her. “Not bloody likely,” he called, causing the Inquisitor to burst out into laughter. It was all he could do to avoid turning bright red at the thought of what he now referred to as  _the incident._

“How serious is it?” she asked as he lead her through the grounds. It was quite late and everyone was either asleep or in the Tavern by now. With any luck, the Throne Room would be empty.

“Imperative,” he responded as they made their way up the steps. “I wouldn't pull you away from the Tavern otherwise, you know that.”

She gave a nod, her face turning serious. Just like that, she was the Inquisitor again, carrying the weight of lives on her shoulders instead of getting drunk and playing cards in the Tavern. “Should we prepare a defensive?” She asked.

He tilted his head a little. “ _I_ may have to, depending on your reaction.”

“That bad, is it?” She asked. She turned to head into the War Room, but Cullen quickly reached out and grabbed her arm. “Cullen?” She asked.

“I...” he paused, thinking of the correct way to word this. If he phrased this wrong, he ran the risk of her hitting him. “I haven't been entirely honest. About why I brought you here.”

“What?” She asked, her eyes thinning a little. He raised his palms towards her in innocence, speaking quickly.

“Well, I mean, there is important business, but it's uh. It's. Not in the War Room.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, where is it, then?”

Cullen cleared his throat, his heart almost jumping out of his chest. This was it. “Evelyn,” he began, the use of her name causing her to blink. “We've been together for a long time... and... I...” he exhaled when he noticed the confusion on her face. “Maker, this is harder than I thought.”

“Cullen?” She asked, an expression of worry on her face. “Is everything okay? What's this abou--”

She stopped speaking when he dropped to one knee, sounding like her voice had gotten jammed in her throat.  When Cullen reached into his pocket, he was terrified something would go wrong. That the ring wouldn't be there, or that he wouldn't be able to pick it up for some reason, or that he'd drop it. But he didn't. He held it between his  index finger and thumb, focusing all his energy on  _not_ stuttering. “Evelyn Trevelyan,” he began, watching as she brought her hands to her mouth. “Would you do me the honour of granting me your hand in--”

“Yes!” She all but screamed, not even waiting for him to finish. A wave of relief washed over him as he stumbled to his feet. That was it. It was done. _She said yes._

He slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit. Just like Dagna had promised. The second it was on her finger, she grabbed him by his collar and pulled him towards her, delivering him a long, almost feverish kiss. They probably wouldn't have stopped if not for a loud sob coming from the entrance of the Throne Room, causing the two to quickly break the kiss.

Peeking out from behind an archway were a few faces, a now bawling Josephine sticking out the most. “Great,” Varric's voice groaned. “Way to go, Ruffles.”

“I'm sorry!” Josephine sobbed as she stepped out from her now-discovered hiding place, dabbing at her eyes. “This is just so beautiful.”

Still in Cullen's arms, and totally unwilling to move, the Inquisitor couldn't help but laugh. “How long have you been there?”

Bull stepped out now, having decided that they were as good as busted. “Since you two left the Tavern.”

I should have known,” Cullen sighed.

 


	2. A Question of Morals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets a little spoilery from here on in. This is based on a sided with mages, Leliana as Divine ending.

“Now,” Josephine began, grinning ear to ear as she gestured over the Throne Room. “Imagine, if you will, ivory drapery with gold-themed centerpieces. I've already sent for flower samples as well, and what I'm envisioning is a rotation of Orlesian--”

“You'll do no such thing,” Vivienne's voice suddenly snapped, cutting Josephine off. “This is authentic Circle drapery, and to remove it would be to dismiss the very fabric of who she is.” Vivienne paused, smirking a little, that same, poison-laced twinkle in her eye that the Inquisitor had learned to look out for. It meant she was about to say something hurtful. “Besides, whites and golds after a service in the _Chantry?_ Maker's breath, little bird, you'll give everyone a sensory overload.”

The Inquisitor winced at this. Josephine had decided that today was set aside for wedding planning, and Vivienne had invited herself along to make sure her opinion was voiced on every. Single. Matter. Not that it was _all_ bad – for what it was worth, the Inquisitor found herself silently agreeing with Vivienne at times. That being said, she wished that Vivienne could be a little more... _gentle_ with Josephine, who was just as firm in her own tastes. “And what color scheme would you suggest, then?” Josephine asked, her jaw tensing in frustration.

She watched Vivienne as the Enchanter paused to scan her eyes over the Throne Room. “Deep blues and purples. A royal wedding deserves royal colors.”

“I'm not a Queen,” the Inquisitor finally piped up, admittedly a little intimidated by the battle of wills that had been taking place.

“You may not officially be a Queen, darling, but if you act like it, people will believe you without question.” She shot her a wink. “Believe me on that, if nothing else.”

Josephine pursed her lips, turning her gaze to the Inquisitor, although looking less like she wanted to throw her writing-board at her. “What do you think, Inquisitor?” She asked. “This is, after all, _your_ wedding.”

The Inquisitor glanced between the two. Here were two of the best players of the game in Thedas and they were attempting to win her approval – and she did _not_ wish to disappoint either of them. “I think,” she began, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes, trying to relax. “...That it's time for a break.”

“Of course, darling,” Vivienne chimed, without so much as an inkling that she'd been ready to pounce at Josephine only seconds before. “It's almost lunch time. One can hardly plan the wedding of the decade on an empty stomach.”

“Wedding of the decade?” The Inquisitor repeated, watching as Vivienne turned and made her exit to her quarters. That was a _very_ big prediction.

Josephine flipped through some papers attached to her writing board, handing a bundle of five pages to the Inquisitor. “If you can find a moment today, I have compiled a list of nobility who will be expecting an invitation.” The Inquisitor's eyes widened when she realized the pages were double-sided.

“These are...” she stammered, looking from the papers to her diplomat. “This is a _lot_ of people,” she gave a nervous laughed, her stomach tightening when she realized that Josephine was being entirely serious.

“You are a very important and popular person, Inquisitor, as is the Commander. To not receive an invitation to such an important wedding would be cause for embarrassment among the nobility – many would take it as an insult.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Are you _still_ reading over that?” Cullen asked her that night, settling into the bed in her quarters.

The Inquisitor gave a nod, pausing to rub the bridge of her nose. “I'm trying to see if I can recognize any names of people who've been rude to me so that we can cut them from the list,” she explained. “But I only seem to remember the names of people who were outstandingly _nice._ ”

Cullen gave a singular, low laugh at this. “Funny how that always seems to be the case, isn't it? When you need to think of the positive, your mind wants to think about the negative, and when you want to think about the negative--”

“You think about the positive,” she finished, opening her eyes and finally turning her attention away from the list. “It's just so many people, and most of them are strangers.” She shook her head and rose from the desk. “And if I'm not stressed about a bunch of strangers wanting to come to my wedding, I'm having to listen to Josephine and Vivienne bicker with each other about everything.” She paused when she came to the bed, all but throwing herself on it. “ _Everything,_ Cullen. Vivienne all but told Josephine she was a heretic over _silverware_.”

“So I should hold off on telling Josephine about the letter I got from a group of former high ranking Templars, then?”

The Inquisitor could only reply with a groan first, abandoning any semblance she had left of being a 'lady.' “Do I even want to know what it said?” She asked, throwing her hands over her face.

“They're not exactly thrilled that we're getting married,” he explained, reaching out to stroke her hair. “The former Knight Captain of Kirkwall marrying a Mage has ruffled some feathers, it seems.”

“And the Chantry isn't exactly pleased, either,” she sighed, crawling up to the pillows to climb under the blankets. “Although the Revered Mother acknowledged that 'times are changing,' so I suppose we can thank Leliana's Divine hand for that.”

Cullen gave a nod as she curled up beside him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder. “Imagine the letters we'd be getting if she'd reformed the Circle and you were _technically_ an apostate.”

“I'd rather not,” she sighed, almost melting against him now. “I'll get angry about all of this tomorrow morning. I'm too tired right now.”

“For what it's worth,” Cullen began, dipping his neck to kiss the top of her head, “the _former_ Templar order would have more luck talking the Qunari into taking up ballet than talking me out of marrying you.”

“You're my favorite 'question of morals,'” she mumbled, a soft smile on her face as she quoted the Revered Mother. She was sure that Cullen replied with a joke of his own, but she fell asleep before he could finish it.

 

 


	3. Surprises

“I'm still offended that no one told me,” Varric complained as he watched the Inquisitor take a sip from her drink. She raised an eyebrow, almost slamming her cup back onto the table.

“No one told _me,_ either,” she joked.

Varric merely rolled his eyes. “Well of  _ course _ no one told you –  C urly wouldn't have gotten to be a romantic, then, would he? And anyway, your Inquisitorialness, if you found out he was going to pop the question, you'd probably end up proposing to him yourself. I'd bet my royalties on it.”

She tried her best to glare at him as he tilted his flagon towards her, but she could only pretend for so long. “Ok, fine,” she laughed, shaking her head and breaking into a smile. “Maybe. In Cullen's defence, however, if  _ you'd _ known, so would most of Skyhold.”

Varric gave a shrug. “What can I say?” He smirked. “I love a good romance.”  He paused, though, his lips pursing together. “I gotta ask, though,” he began, leaning in and his voice lowering. “You okay?”

“Okay?” She asked. “Of course I am. I'm about to get married!”

“You're a _terrible_ liar, Inquisitor, we've been through this,” he warned. “ You're looking as stressed as you were during the war. You're _supposed_ to be...” he waved his hand around, searching for the word. “Well, I'd say glowing, but that's for an entirely _different_ reason.”

T he Inquisitor nearly dropped her drink, coughing and spluttering the mouthful she'd almost swallowed. “What?!” She coughed, shaking her head. “Varric, what are you--”

“It's ok, Inquisitor. I know. It's safe with me.”

She gave a sigh, leaning back in to her chair once she had regained her composure. “How'd you figure it out?” She asked. “The only person who knows is the Revered Mother, and you two aren't exactly bosom buddies.”

“Bosom buddies?” He laughed. “That's a new one. I'm stealing that.” He shifted in his seat, bringing his elbows to the table. Story time. “Bull was the one who sparked my curiosity. Said we were unusually low on Elfroot. Thinking we had someone stealing from the stores, I did some investigating and found out the Revered Mother was requisitioning it. For you. 'But why does the Inquisitor need so much Elfroot when she's not going on to the field regularly?' I asked myself. So I did a little bit of research. Either you were taking it daily for rheumatism _or_ , more likely, you were taking it for morning sickness.”

“You know that you probably could have just _asked_ me.”

Varric shook his head. “That wouldn't be any fun, would it? Anyway, that alone wasn't enough to go off. So I started to look for other signs.  You've been exhausted lately, more than usual, even with all this wedding planning going on. I noticed you getting ravenous with a salmon steak yesterday, and you  _ hate _ fish. But most of all,”  he tilted his flagon towards her, “if you keep resting your hand over your torso, people are going to notice, Inquisitor.”

T he Inquisitor threw her head back in defeat before bringing herself to lean on the table, her face covered by her hands. “I've been trying to keep it a secret until  _ after _ the wedding.”

“And you're not doing a half-bad job,” he assured her. “Keep that hand at bay and you'll fly under the radar for a while.”

They were interrupted by the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor, Bull pulling up a seat at their table. “ What's going on, Boss?”  The Qunari asked as he joined them, looking between the visibly stressed Inquisitor and Varric. “Oh, are we talking about how the Inquisitor is pregnant?  Nice choice, drinking spiced milk, by the way, ”  he said, pointing to her drink. “Almost passable for something alcoholic. Almost.”

“Of course,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Of _course_ Bull knows.” She glanced to him, watching him move to tap at his horns, but cut him off. “Ben-Hassrath. I know, I know.”

B ull laughed, reaching out to give her a gentle slap on the back – as gentle as Bull could manage, anyway. “It's okay, Boss. Secret is safe with me. I can't imagine the Chantry would exactly be throwing a party – although,  _ really, _ what do they  _ think _ you two have been doing all this time?”

Whilst Varric found this as funny as Bull did, the Inquisitor was  _ not _ laughing. “This is a nightmare,” she groaned.

“What do you mean?” Varric asked. “You're having a big, fancy wedding and baby makes three. The timing is perfect.”

T he smile completely vanished from Varric's face, though, when he realised the Inquisitor was crying. He looked to Bull, gobsmacked and without a clue as to what to do. He knew how to handle a crying woman, but the Inquisitor was different because she was the Inquisitor and not someone he was trying to soften up. Bull, however, seemed to know  _ exactly _ what to do, moving his chair closer to hers and opening his arms to her. “Come on,” he said, his voice the softest Varric had ever head it as he took the Inquisitor into his arms, the sheer size of them making it look at though he could crush her. But he didn't, and she rested against his chest, intermittently wiping her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Don't be,” Bull almost crooned. “You have a lot going on right now. It's ok.” Varric was at a loss for words, unable to entirely believe what he was seeing.

“It's all just so much,” she explained. “We have to have this big wedding and invite all these people I don't know, because if we don't it will reflect poorly on the Inquisition. It's full of silverware and drapery and protocol and it doesn't even feel like it's our wedding anymore, it just feels like a big diplomatic show of... of _something._ ”

A s she slowly began to calm down, Bull and Varric shared a look. Without a single word, they'd already hatched a plan.

 

* * *

 

“I... well... it's...” the Inquisitor gazed at the mirror in the Val Royeaux boutique, trying to think of a way to phrase her thoughts without offending Vivienne, Josephine or... well, she wouldn't really offend Dorian – if anything, he might find her displeasure entertaining. That was probably why he had insisted on coming on for the dress fitting. “...It's.. _flattering,_ I suppose.”

“I told you Gaston could work wonders,” Vivienne remarked, a smile on her face, obviously pleased with the result.

“Indeed,” Gaston agreed, picking up the hem of the dress and pinning a section to be shorter. “You have a fine figure, Inquisitor, it was a dream to work with.”

She winced, trying to breath e within the corset,  finding herself distracted by the way her breasts heaved with each breath. If  _ she _ found this distracting, she didn't even want to  _ think _ about poor Cullen's reaction. And Blackwall stared at her enough already. This would be... “The girls will certainly be making a statement, then,” Dorian laughed. “ You're aware that this is a Chantry wedding?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the tailor, “not a saucy play in a tavern?”

“Dorian,” Vivienne hissed before shooting an apologetic smile at Gaston, who had visibly taken offence.

“I'm just trying to think of practicality, that's all,” Dorian raised his fingers to his chin. “And are we really making her marry in _white?_ When she's marrying a man as pretty as the Commander? Are we all just pretending, or are we operating under the notion that our guests are all fools?” He paused. “No offence, Evelyn.”

S he threw her hand to her mouth, trying her best to not burst into laughter at the sight of Josephine's face, which was one of pure mortification. “ None taken,” was all she managed to say as she stifled a giggle.

B efore Vivienne could speak, Dorian raised his hand, gesturing for her to be quiet – a brave move, even for him. “Just humour me here, but is there anything  _ else _ that the Inquisitor could try on?” He asked. “Something... with a little more flow. Just to see.”

Gason gave a grunt, his jaw tense, rolling his shoulders. “I  _ suppose _ I'll have something off the rack... but I will remind you that the deposit on this dress is  _ non-negotiable.” _

“Of course,” Dorian replied with a dismissive wave, smugly glancing at Vivienne. “I wouldn't dream of changing the dress. I'm just curious.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, _Evelyn,_ ” Dorian sighed as she stood in front of the mirror. “That is _most_ becoming.”

Dorian wasn't wrong. At all. The dress wasn't white, but an ivory color, the fabric so light that it flowed with the slight breeze that came through the window. “This is beautiful.”

“It certainly is...” Josephine remarked, her eyes wide. A glance from Vivienne, though, broke her from her state of wonder. “Of course, that other dress was paid for by Empress Celine, to not wear it would be incredibly impolite. However... perhaps you could wear this for the reception.”

Vivienne shifted on her seat, reluctantly agreeing. “ It  _ will _ be easier to sit down in, I suppose.”

“Excellent!” Dorian exclaimed with a clap of his hands. “It's settled then – the Inquisitor only has to look like a glamorous sausage for _half_ of the day.”

 


	5. Trust

"Evelyn," Cullen called, waving to the Inquisitor from across the field. She was relieved to see him. The wedding was not even a week away, with diplomats, dignitaries and nobles arriving from just about every corner of Fereldon, Orlais and even Antiva and Nevarra. It was nice to see a familiar face. Even if there was someone she didn't recognize with him.

"Thank goodness," the Inquisitor laughed as she approached. "I was starting to think Josephine had kidnapped you."

"Oh, I was stolen away," he sighed, glancing downward and speaking under his breath. "Not by Josephine, though." He cleared his throat. "Evelyn, this is... I'd like you to meet..." glancing between the Inquisitor and the woman who stood beside him, he winced. "Maker, I've been dreading this... Evelyn, this is my... my  _sister,_  Mia."

Mia reached out, smacking him on the arm, "don't be embarrassed by me or anything." As Cullen protested his innocence, Mia approached the Inquisitor, her arms open, pulling her into a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Evel-- er, Inquisitor," she corrected as she pulled away.

"Evelyn's fine," she laughed. "How did you find the trip to Skyhold?"

"Not going to lie -- it was long. But if it means seeing my idiot little brother get married, it's worth it."

"Idiot?" Cullen repeated. The Inquisitor couldn't help but laugh, attempting and failing to hide it behind her hand.

Grinning ear to ear, Mia shot a glance to Cullen before looping the Inquisitor's arm around hers and turning their backs on him. "Now, I must insist, Evelyn, that you tell me  _everything._  Because I can assure you that my brother has told me  _nothing_."

The two began to walk away, chatting as though they'd known eachother for years, and Cullen all of a sudden felt  _very_ anxious about how close they were going to get.

 

* * *

 

"Are you  _sure_  it's this way?" the Inquisitor asked Sera, as herself, Dorian and Bull wandered through the forests of the Emerald Graves. Sera had some of her 'friends' waiting for her here with some important and urgent information. The Inquisitor -- who was, admittedly, also desperate to get away from the looming, massive wedding, which was three days away now -- knew that Sera wouldn't insist on meeting with anyone unless it was worth it.

"I'm  _telling_  you," Sera insisted, jumping over a rock, "it's just a little further." Whoever they were meeting with, Sera was excited about it.

Bull chimed in next, "it's a beautiful day to be out walking, anyway." He gave a loud, dramatic inhale. "Smell that air. It's almost like we weren't here decimating Orlesian rebels only a year ago. 

"And dear Evelyn was nearly overcome with cabin fever in Skyhold," Dorian added. "It's been, what, over a month since you've killed anything?"

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "It  _has_  been nice to get out of Skyhold, though," she admitted. "If not just for the--" the Inquisitor froze. Something was covering her eyes. Instinctively, she flinched, moving to wave her staff, but something told hold of her arms.

"Shh. Boss. It's me," Bull's voice said very,  _very_  gently. "It's ok. Relax."

"Bull?!" She snapped. "Bull what are you doing?!"

"Blindfolding you," Bull stated, matter-of-factly. "It's important that you trust us right now, okay?"

She felt a hand take hers, long fingers, calluses on the same spots as her own. Dorian. "Believe me," Dorian laughed, "I wouldn't let Bull blindfold you without good reason."

The Inquisitor knew she should, by all means, be furious -- or at least a little bit irked -- but she couldn't help but laugh. "Ok," she giggled, " _what_  are you doing?"

"Well, that's a bit daft, innit?" Sera asked as they began to carefully walk forward. "'Sif we're gonna tell you when we've got you in a  _blindfold._  Defeats the purpose, the  _mystery,_  all that."

"I want you to know that if  _anyone_  else put me in a blindfold, I'd have set them on fire by now," the Inquisitor noted, causing bull to laugh.

"Of course," he said. "Which is why we volunteered."

The Inquisitor paused. "Volunteer?!" She asked. "There are other people in on this?"

"More than you know," Bull chuckled. They came to a stop. Somewhere. She couldn't tell where -- but the breeze was gone, so she assumed it was somewhere enclosed. "I'm going to leave you with Sera and Dorian now, Boss," he explained. "They're going to get you changed. I'll be outside keeping watch." He paused, giving her a quick pat on the back. "Remember, you are safe." 

"Woah, wait, changed?" She asked, Sera's hands resting on her shoulders to remove her cloak. "Could we just... slow down for a second?" She felt another set of hands unbutton her tunic.

"Evelyn," Dorian assured her, "I can assure you that I am much more interested in what we're putting on you than what's underneath."

Sera's hands reached to her belt, undoing the buckle. "Yeah, and I've seen you naked so many times now that it's lost all meaning. No funny business. Promise." Sera paused. "Unless you  _want_  some funny business."

" _Sera,_ " Dorian warned.

"Alright, alright," Sera continued undoing the buckles and clasps. "Just checkin'."

The undressing continued, the Inquisitor doing her best to remember who was doing this. Dorian and Sera, and to some extent, Bull. She'd trust her lives with them, they'd trust her with theirs. She could trust them with this, surely. "Step in," Dorian said once she was down to her small clothes, his hands guiding her to step into... something. A skirt? A dress? She wasn't sure. They pulled up the fabric -- it was a dress, definitely. But this wasn't making any sense.

"Is... this a dress?" She asked, feeling fingers doing up ties at her back. "Why?"

"We can't  _tell_  you!" Sera whined, her fingers moving up to her hair now, removing the tie that held it back, her locks falling down onto her shoulders. "Ok. Let's go."

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow. "Shoes?" She asked, feeling grass between her toes.

"Won't need 'em!" Sera cackled, her fingers wrapping around her wrist and guiding her out of wherever they were. "All ready, Bull!"

She felt his hand settle on her back -- something which was, admittedly, quite comforting -- as they walked forward. Or to the side. Or back where they came. She wasn't sure at anymore. "If it's any consolation, Boss -- you look good."

"Well it would be nice if I could  _see_  whatever I'm wearing," she whined, growing impatient. She tried to listen for hints, but nothing seemed out of the usual. That was until she heard chatter. Other people's chatter. Some voices familiar. "What's that?" She asked.

"It's time," Bull announced, the chatter quiet all of a sudden. She felt his fingers move to untie the blindfold, and suddenly there was light.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust -- and when they did, she was almost overwhelmed. In a clearing stood a small group of people, nothing lavish. Members of her Inner Circle, friends, family. No nobility or dignitaries or diplomats -- spare for Josephine, who was holding a handkerchief to her mouth as though she was trying not to burst into tears.

The Inquisitor looked down to see what she was wearing. It was the dress Dorian had made her try on. That was that mystery out of the way. She looked back up to those who had gathered, watching as they slowly parted either side of the clearing, leaving an aisle straight to Cullen, who stood there, waiting for her, in front of Leliana. The Inquisitor felt the breathe stolen from her when she saw the way he was looking at her, as though she was... something else. Something wonderful.

"Thought you might like something a little more... cozy," Varric explained, appearing by her side and offering his arm up to her. "Before all the political crazy that's about to come your way."

"You... you did this?" She asked, taking it in hers despite the height difference.

"Tiny and I came up with the master plan," he explained, "but Sparkles and Buttercup helped." Varric began to walk with her down the aisle, quickly tilting his head to the right. "Check out the Seeker," he whispered to her. Cassandra stood with her arms crossed, trying to avoid eye contact as tears rolled down her cheeks. Evelyn bit her lip to stop from giggling as Josephine offered her a handkerchief, which Cassandra snatched from her and used it to quickly wipe her eyes.

As they reached Cullen, Varric let go, allowing to continue on her own. When she arrived before Leliana, Cullen instantly took her hand. "Maker's breath," he began, looking her up and down. "You look... beautiful. I mean -- more than usual."

"Were you in on this, too?" She asked. Cullen shook his head, smiling. "No, they only told me this morning. I wish I had been, though. This is..."

"Perfect?" She offered.

"Yes," he smiled, squeezing her hand. "Perfect."

Leliana cleared her throat. "Are we ready to begin?" She asked, opening her scriptures, smiling at the two. They gave a nod, and she began to read.

And just like that, they were married, by the Divine, in a clearing in the Emerald Graves, surrounded by people they cared about. No politics. No obligations. No diplomatic process. The time for that would come, of course. The big, showy wedding would still happen in three days to appease those who needed to be appeased, and they never needed to know that they were  _already_  married. But that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was what was in that clearing

It was exactly what they'd wanted.

 


	6. You Know What I Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO SELF-INDULGENT.

"Uncle Bull!"

Rose gave a squeal as she ran across the courtyard. Bull kneeled down, his arms outstretched, grabbing the girl and lifting her into the air when she crashed against him. "Little Kadan!" He laughed, literally tossing her into the air and catching her, all without effort, the small girl giggling the whole time. "Look how big you've grown in only a few months!"

"Did you and Uncle Dorian fight a dragon?" She asked, looking between the two as Bull sat the girl on his shoulders, her little hands holding his horns for stability. "Father said something about a beast with  _two_  backs! Was is a big dragon?" 

Dorian gave a snort while Bull let out a long, hearty laugh. "I'll tell you about it when you're older, Little Kadan. I don't think your mother would be happy if I gave you any nightmares." 

She gasped as they began to walk forward into the keep. "Was it  _that_  scary?" She asked, looking at Dorian, who was shaking his head in amusement. "And  _anyway_ , I've already had nightmares. I have nightmares all the time. I'm not scared of _anything_!" 

"What kind of nightmares?" Bull asked as they made their way up the steps.

"I'm not allowed to say," Rose sighed. "Mother says I shouldn't tell anyone yet."

Dorian's smile vanished and he looked up at Rose, who seemed comfortable as ever on the Qunari's shoulders. "...Rose," he began, his voice especially gently. "In these nightmares, do people try to stop you from waking up?" He watched the girl carefully. He didn't like a lot about children, in all honesty. They were loud and dirty and rude and, often, ugly. But they were also easy to read. Hesitancy was written all over Rose's face. "I ask because when I was your age, I had nightmares, too."

"Really?" She asked.

He gave a nod, gesturing for Bull to stop at the entrance. "Yes. I still have them, even today." 

Rose pressed her lips together, looking around quickly before giving Dorian a nod. "Sometimes they're not nightmares, though," she explained. "Sometimes they're good dreams. But even when I have the good dreams, mother comes and wakes me up. Sometimes she starts hurting the people in them and... then it turns into a nightmare again."

Dorian and Bull silently shared a look. Dorian knew what this meant. So did Bull. "We promise we won't tell anyone, Little Kadan," Bull assured her after a moment. "Remember what I always say." 

"Whenever you need a friend or you need a butt kicked, The Iron Bull is with you!" she recited with a smile as they continued inside. Dorian always found it endearing how Bull had taken a shine to the girl so quickly. Everyone in the Inquisitor's Inner Circle, had, of course, managed to find a soft spot for her over time -- even Sera, who was  _petrified_  of her for the first four or so years. But Bull had adored her from day one, which, surprisingly, came as a surprise to no one. 

They entered the Throne Room, Rose babbling away to Bull. They'd spent the last few months in Tevinter, Dorian working hard to begin a movement of change, Bull acting as his bodyguard. It was working. Slowly, of course -- it had taken them a few years of visits and campaigning before they really started to see any results, but it was getting there. Still, after all that time and work in his homeland, Dorian still felt a warmth and sense of peace whenever he returned to Skyhold. There was constant threat and hostility in Tevinter, but here? Well, he certainly could stand to get along better with Vivienne on the rare occasion they crossed paths...

"There you are!" the voice of the Inquisitor called through the Throne Room. "I thought I told you to  _wait_  for me, young lady."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, but Bull got in first, reaching up to tap her leg, gesturing for her to let him speak. "She's alright, Boss," he assured her. "Good diplomat, this one. Best welcoming party you could have hoped for."

The Inquisitor gave Rose a look that delivered more of a scolding than she could with words, but eventually dropped it, exhaling and moving to Dorian. They held each other in what was a much-needed embrace for the both of them, eventually pulling away with a kiss on the cheek. He had Bull on his travels, yes, but he still found himself missing her a great deal. "How was Tevinter?" She asked.

"Full of murder, treachery and backstabbing, as per usual," he replied. "But it's getting better -- they're apologize after they poison each other, now, so there's  _some_  progress. How's The Inquisition? 

"Oh, just peacefully trying to douse another Orlesian civil war," she said, rolling her eyes, "stop people in Fereldon from burning down the College of Enchanters in any given region. You know. The usual."

"And how are  _you_?" He asked, an eyebrow raised. The Inquisitor knew all too well that meant he knew she was keeping something from him, and she quickly glanced to Rose.

"Later," she said. "When the little ears aren't listening so keenly."

 

* * *

"She's having the dreams," the Inquisitor began, sitting on the bed in her chambers when her and Dorian could have a private moment. "She's only six and they're trying to get her. I have to go in there and fight them off, they want her so badly." She looked to him, her eyes wide. "Do you think it's because..."

 "Because she's your daughter?" Dorian asked. "It's more than possible. You walked through the Fade, closed the breach... I imagine there's more than a few demons who are quite unhappy with you."

 The Inquisitor gave a sigh, throwing her head back. Like Dorian, she'd aged minimally. But of course she had -- he'd shown her how to use her magic to look her best, after all. Her hair was much longer now, though, kept in long braids, falling down and past her shoulders. "I was hoping that she'd be normal."

 "Normal?" Dorian scoffed. "Evelyn, we've been through this. Magic  _is_  normal. Being locked up in a tower was the only thing not normal about it." He paused, trying to douse his own frustration that she still struggled with this. Say what you will about Tevinter, but the mere concept of the Circle offended him, only seconded by what the Circle  _did_  to people's self-worth. "What about Phillip?" he asked. "Or Justinia?"

 "Phillip hasn't shown any signs yet, but he's still young," she explained. "And Justinia's much too young. We won't know for a long time." She was right, of course. Justinia had only just mastered not putting bugs in her mouth and he doubted her brain was even capable of connecting with the Fade yet.

 "Have you told Cullen?" he asked. A silence loomed for a while, but she didn't need to say much. She might have thought herself capable when it came to hiding her less positive emotions, but Dorian had seen her in full-blown, messy sobs enough times to pick up on the more subtle signs.

She finally gave a nod, glancing up to him. "He's... it's not that he's taking it  _badly..._  but he's afraid. I can see it. He tries so hard to hide it, to not be. But he is." She gave a nervous laugh, something she did when she was trying to stop herself from crying. "I can hardly  _blame_  him, considering what happened to him in the Fereldon Circle. He  _still_  has nightmares about it... we talked about... what to do, you know," she stared ahead, not particularity looking at anything, "if I was corrupted. We've always had a plan. He'd be the one to do it, but not until the children were out of sight, and he'd never tell them he did it. And I can see it when we talk about Rose, how scared he is that he might have to... if she..."

"Evelyn," Dorian warned, frowning. "It's not going to happen, so don't go upsetting yourself." He crossed his legs, stroking his chin in thought. "What you need to be worrying about is her education."

"That's where the problem lays," she sighed. "Cullen wants to send her to Vivienne, to have her tutored in private -- away from 'the dangers of other mages.' Or, well, he didn't say that, but he didn't have to. He's always been nervous around us in large groups."

"In his defence, we  _can_ set things on fire using our minds," Dorian smirked. "But Vivienne, of all people?"

She rolled her eyes. "He seems to think she'll get the same kind of training she would have in the Circle. But I don't want her to... well, Vivienne is..."

"You don't want her to end up becoming an impossibly distinguishable snob?" Dorian waited for the Inquisitor to reluctantly nod before continuing. "What do  _you_  want?" He asked.

"That's the problem," she sighed. "I don't know. My first thought was to enrol her in one of the Colleges, but there's so much hostility towards them. They're still trying to  _burn them to the ground_  in some parts of the Freemarches. And when word travels that she's the Inquisitor's daughter, she'll be the target of every enemy I've made."

He gave a nod. "And you've made plenty of those."

"I could always teach her myself... but honestly," she said with a raise of her eyebrow, "that would only last for so long. Once she becomes a teenager she'll stop listening to me all together, and a lot of good that would do." The Inquisitor looked out the window, gazing into the Mountains. "Really, sending her to stay with Vivienne is looking like the best option we have. ...I just wish we could keep her here. Even just for a few more years."

Dorian watched her carefully. Magic in here wasn't like it was in Tevinter. It wasn't celebrated, they wouldn't have a party for Rose and then hire a tutor for her. Rose wouldn't spend her youth bragging to her friends that  _she_  got  _her_  magic first, she wouldn't know the joy of it like he did as a child. Here it was feared, shunned. It was seen as a life sentence. For Evelyn, it meant being taken away from her family and forced to live in a gloomy, musty old tower with people she didn't know at all. It was any wonder she wasn't taking this far worse than she was.

"You know," he finally spoke, unable to watch her wrestle with this any longer, "Bull and I were thinking of staying in Skyhold for a few months this time. He's grown quite tired of all the traditional Tevinter incest and backstabbery... perhaps, while you sort things out,  _I_  could tutor her."

She smiled and shook her head, waving it off. "You have an Imperium to sort out. I couldn't--"

" _Evelyn,_ " he insisted, talking right over the top of her. Her face fell once it settled in -- he was being serious. "I wouldn't offer if I wasn't fully intending to do so."

 

* * *

"I don't like it," Cullen's voice was firm as he placed one of the books back on the shelf by his desk. He;\’d listened to the proposal in complete silence, and for a moment, the Inquisitor thought that he might have been considering it. She should have known better, though.

"Why?" Evelyn asked. "If it were anyone else I wouldn't have even considered it, but we're talking about Dorian, Cullen, I'd trust him with my life --  _you've_  trusted him with my life on more than one occasion."

He crossed his arms, taking a deep breath, the frown on his face not exactly serving to fill her with confidence. "It's not a question of trust, Evelyn," he replied. "Dorian is Tevinter. No matter how impeccable his character, they teach magic differently in the Imperium."

She shrugged. "And is that so bad?" She asked. "He certainly came out fine, and for all their moral lapses, their Magisters seem to have a pretty handle on magic."

"I'd just be more comfortable learning the same way they did in the Circle." 

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, taking  _her_  turn to cross her arms. "What? Locked up in a tower, out of sight and out of mind?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then what  _did_  you mean?" The Inquisitor's head tilted to the side, her patience wearing thin. If this steered them towards an argument, it wouldn't be the first they'd had along these lines.

He eyed her carefully, probably trying to sense how delicately he had to tread. "I don't want her learning that magic is superior or... whatever they teach in the Imperium. I want her to learn that it exists to  _serve._ "

She pursed her lips. "You know I hate it when you say that."

"And you know it doesn't mean what you feel it means. We've been over this."

"All very well for you," she replied, her words short and sharp. "I lived that by force, you lived it by choice." Shaking her head, she raised her hands, deciding to drop it. They'd had this argument of semantics a thousand times over now, and it was only serving to distract. "Look, I just want you to consider it. Having her trained by Vivienne somewhere in Orlais is a grand plan, but I want to be there for her while she grows up. And I know you do, too."

He gave a nod, his eyes looking away for a moment and his rand raising to scratch his chin. "I'll think about it," he finally agreed. "...And I'm sorry I've been so...  _difficult_  about this. This is all just so--"

"I know," she interrupted, her voice softening. She stepped towards him, bringing her hand to his face and running her thumb gently over his cheekbone before stealing a quick kiss from her husband. Their fights never lasted long -- they had three children  _and_  an army to manage and they couldn't afford the luxury of being angry at each other for days on end. "And I understand."

Cullen's hand reached out to take her free one in his, giving a gentle squeeze. "This is why I love you, you know."

 


End file.
